


Saving Juliet

by Threshie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Injury, Crowley Has a Heart, Gen, Hellhounds, Hurt Juliet, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sam Winchester, Podfic Welcome, Sam and Dogs, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: If there was one thing Sam would never have guessed he’d be doing with his Friday night, it was playing veterinarian to Crowley's favorite Hellhound.





	1. Chapter One

Crowley hadn’t given them much choice in the matter — he’d appeared on their doorstep, Juliet curled at his feet, and demanded their help. Apparently his Hellhound had been doing her Hellhound thing, hunting somebody for their damned soul, when some other hunters had ambushed and attacked her. Hell was the kind of place where an injured animal would just be put down, and no doubt the demons all expected their King to do just that. Instead, he’d brought her here.

The first thing Dean had done was to retrieve the Hellhound glasses from the trunk of the Impala. If there was a Hellhound in the bunker, he wanted to know exactly where it was.

Juliet was a pretty scary sight. Unlike Crowley’s previous Hellhound, she actually lived up to the description “demonic pit bull” — she had the big wide toothy mouth, the big chest and layers of muscle, and wicked short pointed ears that looked cropped. All of this would have been easier to handle if Juliet wasn’t also about the size of a horse. She was hard to focus on straight-on, like she was made of shifting half-there shadows, and her eyes were bright round pin-points of light. 

Nightmare fuel, basically.

Except that Sam was a dog lover, and right now instead of unearthly baying and snarling noises, Juliet was crying. The sound of a whimpering, wounded dog was something he couldn’t stand to just listen to — who was that heartless? It had taken about two minutes for him to volunteer them to help Juliet if they could.

So there they were, the King of Hell and his favorite pet sitting on the floor in the bunker’s main room, Sam wondering if a spell to heal a Hellhound even existed.

“Holy…” Dean swore softly under his breath as he slipped on the second pair of Hellhound glasses, finally getting a look at their “patient.”

Just like the more vicious sounds she made, Juliet’s whining seemed to echo a little in the big room, giving it an unearthly feel. Whatever had happened, it sounded like it hurt.

“It’s alright, darling,” Crowley soothed, petting her pointed ears gently. He leaned and whispered into one of them, “Papa’s right here.” At the answering whimper from the giant dog, he cooed, “I know, I know…you’ll be just fine, love…”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance through their black-framed glasses, both wondering what to say. They didn’t have the first clue how to save a dying Hellhound. Usually dying was what people WANTED Hellhounds to do.

“I…I think before we research, we better take a look at her,” Sam suggested, glancing down at Juliet. The scary grinning mouth was closed right now; she had nuzzled her big snout up against Crowley’s chest, whimpering while he stroked her fur. He wondered if Crowley had raised Juliet from a little Hellpup to her giant adult self. He could believe it.

“You can get close — she won’t bite,” Crowley told the brothers, seeing that they were both keeping their distance. Dean crossed his arms and frowned at Sam, nodding toward the demon.

“You’re the one who agreed to this.” 

Juliet made another pitiful whimper, and Sam shot him a sour look in return. 

“Yes. I did,” he replied flatly, stepping over to Crowley and Juliet. He was annoyed, but he couldn’t give Dean too much of a hard time about this. His brother had once been torn apart by a Hellhound — anybody would hesitate to help one after that. Kneeling beside Juliet, he saw that she was keeping her big head nuzzled up against her “Papa’s” chest, and didn’t show any sign of acknowledging Sam at all. He looked over her shadowy, smoky form more closely. How could he see a wound in all of that?

“On her back, up near her shoulder,” Crowley said, pointing out the spot. Juliet gave a spine-tingling whine, and he quickly returned to hugging around her neck with both arms, petting her nose. “Shh, shh…” 

Sam looked again and saw what he was talking about. It was a darker point on Juliet’s back, and the smoke there almost seemed to seep out. He vividly recalled being drenched in Hellhound blood for the Trials.

“I can’t see it as well as you can,” he told Crowley, cautiously reaching a hand out to rest on Juliet’s back. “Is it just a stab wound? Was there poison?” The fur beneath his hand felt course. Sam was struck with a wave of empathy — she was shivering. It brought back guilt from memories of hitting that dog with his car, but most of all touching Juliet drove the point home that she was just a big animal. A demonic one, but that wasn’t really her fault, was it?

“Stabbed AND twisted,” Crowley replied darkly, stroking Juliet’s ears. “It must have been something burned in holy oil to do this much damage. She’s bled a lot. You’re strong, though, aren’t you darling? You’ll be just fine.” He switched to a sweet tone when he spoke to the Hellhound, focusing on her and smiling.

Sam nodded, glancing back at Dean. It was too bad Castiel wasn’t here right now. Could an angel even heal demons, though, much less a Hellhound? Something holy like an angel’s grace seemed like it would have the opposite effect. 

“Okay,” he said, turning back to Crowley. “Okay, uh. First we should bandage her up to slow the bleeding.” That seemed like a good start. “Then I’m gonna do some research and see if I can find a spell to heal Hellhounds.”

“There isn’t one,” Crowley replied matter-of-factly, petting Juliet’s neck. She had quieted to soft whimpers now. “Demons aren’t sentimental. When a Hellhound is hurt, we usually just get a new one.” He said that, but here he was comforting HIS Hellhound like she was his baby…

“There’s a lot of books in our database,” Sam told him, patting his shoulder. “I’m not gonna give up yet.” He got to his feet, waving Dean over. His brother took exactly one step closer. Sighing, Sam went over to stand with him instead. “We’ve got to patch her up to slow the bleeding. Grab the first aid kit, will you?” He wondered if morphine would work on a Hellhound. It would be kind to give her something for the pain.

Dean grabbed the first aid kit, but still wouldn’t approach the Hellhound. Sam took it from him and returned to sit with Crowley and Juliet, taking out the morphine and bandages. 

“Crowley, hold her head,” he said, surprising himself with how gently he was speaking. The demon looked a bit intrigued by it, himself. 

“She’ll stay as she is,” he replied softly, bowing his head to kiss Juliet’s ears. “Won’t you, love?” A soft whimper was the only response. No, Sam realized in surprise, the Hellhound’s tail actually twitched in a little wag as well. He was dangerously close to thinking of this shadowy monstery dog as cute. 

Watching him pull a big syringe out of the first aid kit, Dean fidgeted. 

“I’m gonna go call Cas,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the door. He beat a hasty retreat before Sam was even done drawing the dose of morphine out of the vial.


	2. Chapter 2

“Okay, girl, here we go…” Sam couldn’t help it — he was talking to Juliet now, too. He’d given the Hellhound an extra large dose of morphine, and it would have been best to wait until it kicked in fully, but she was bleeding too much to wait. Crowley sat with her head on his lap and pet her ears while Sam pressed a thick pad of gauze tightly to the wound to try and slow the bleeding down. 

The sharp growl made him flinch, but not as much as Juliet starting to push herself to her feet. Sam scooted backwards on the floor to get away from her, but Crowley immediately hugged around her neck, patting her nose and shushing her.

“I know, darling, I know…” He bowed his head and rested it on top of hers for a moment, whispering to her. The giant dog relaxed back down to the floor, her growls dissolving into upsetting cries again. When Sam cautiously pressed the gauze back onto the wound, she whimpered louder but didn’t move this time. Crowley settled down to sit with her again, nodding at him. She would stay put.

Sam felt bad about causing Juliet any more pain, but she’d already lost so much blood that they had to slow it down. Hearing her crying was almost unbearable, though. He wished the morphine would kick in already. Maybe she needed a larger dose. Who had ever treated a Hellhound with morphine before? Probably nobody.

Juliet’s back seemed to relax under his hands suddenly, and she fell silent. Sam looked at Crowley in alarm. 

“Is she…?”

“Bloody morphine finally hit her,” the demon said. He didn’t look that happy about it, watching Juliet carefully with a hand resting on her neck. It had probably seemed like she was doing better, Sam realized, when she was still moving around and making some kind of noise.

“That’s good,” he said, trying to be reassuring. “The bleeding is slowing down a bit, I think. Can you hold this?” He nodded to the pad of gauze that was currently occupying both of his hands. 

Crowley eased Juliet’s big head off of his lap, letting her rest it on the floor. She gave a tiny whine, but remained relaxed. The demon ran a hand over her ears and neck as he got to his feet.

“I’ll be right here, love. I’m not going far,” he promised.

Stepping around near Sam by her side, Crowley knelt down and held out his hand. As carefully and quickly as he could, Sam slipped his hands out from under the demon’s, and Crowley took over pressing on the gauze. It only took him the one hand where Sam had been using two — for once, demons having superhuman strength was actually a good thing.

“She seems stable — are you going to heal her now?” He looked at Sam like the hunter was drawing this out on purpose. Sam frowned at him.

“She’s NOT stable yet, she’s still bleeding a lot,” he said, getting to his feet. “Twisting a knife makes the wound messy — I’m gonna dress it before I do any reading.”

Crowley blinked and then nodded once, looking back down at Juliet. He accepted the explanation — great. 

“I’ll be right back,” Sam promised, standing up and heading across the room to the table with the first aid supplies. 

He quickly gathered up a bottle of saline, more gauze, antibiotic ointment, and medical tape. He was pretty sure that Juliet needed stitches, but he was still holding out hope that once her wound was stabilized, there was a spell in one of the Men of Letters’ books that could heal a Hellhound. Behind him, he could hear Crowley talking to Juliet again.

“…Won’t even scold you this time,” the demon was promising, patting the Hellhound’s side with his free hand. Sam hadn’t caught what he might scold Juliet about, but the mental image was strangely comical. This was a side of Crowley that Sam hadn’t been expecting, and he was a little unnerved by how much he related to the demonic King of Hell. 

Crowley was no ordinary demon, that was for sure. Sam generally considered people who were kind of animals good people, but that didn’t exactly override torturing human beings as a bona fide hobby. Although Crowley had been known to torture monsters, too, and angels…other demons…he was pretty equal opportunity about it, really. Pausing to listen to how his own thoughts sounded, Sam shook his head and stepped back over to Juliet’s side with the armload of medical supplies.

For all of the mental reminders that Crowley was not by any means a good person, the fond look in his eyes as he murmured comforting things to Juliet said otherwise. Sam knelt by the demon’s side, laying the medical supplies out on the floor in as neat a row as he could manage. Juliet was whimpering a little again, her pointed ears drooping sadly down. 

Placing a hand gently on her side, Sam glanced at Crowley.

“Is her morphine wearing off already?” It was a rhetorical question — Juliet’s shivering and whining made it obvious what the answer was. Grabbing the syringe and vial, Sam quickly drew out another dose. He’d already given her way more than a regular person or animal would get. Could Hellhounds be poisoned by anything ordinary? If Juliet was affected by the morphine, it seemed likely. She was big, though.

Their patient was starting to cry again, ears low and eerie eyes sad.

“Poor girl,” Sam told her, petting her nose and trying to sound soothing. “Poor darling, it’s okay. I’m gonna patch you up.”

Crowley patted the Hellhound’s side again, watching as Sam injected her with the morphine. Juliet’s whining continued, but she didn’t move.

“How’s the bleeding?” Sam scooted closer to Crowley without waiting for a response, setting the syringe aside and reaching for the demon’s hand. “Show me.”

Crowley carefully lifted the gauze to check on the wound. He and Sam both saw that the bleeding had slowed considerably. The blackish blood was all over her side and soaking half through the gauze onto Crowley’s hand. Sam had it on him already from holding the gauze earlier. 

“It looks good,” Sam decided, reaching for the saline and extra gauze he’d brought. “You can stop pressing now. Keep her calm while I do this, okay?”

Crowley did not look reassured by the sight of the gaping wound, but he got to his feet again and headed back over to sit near Juliet’s head.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Moose.”

“I actually do,” Sam told him evenly, focusing on the wound. He waited until Crowley sat down and rested Juliet’s head on his lap again before starting to flush the injury out with saline. “Me and Dean patched ourselves up for years before we ever had anybody to heal injuries for us.”

“Before you met Feathers,” Crowley replied pointedly. Juliet whimpered, and he leaned down to pet her ears and coo to her, “Who’s Papa’s prettiest girl? Yes you are, darling.” 

Sam noticed Juliet’s tail wagging a tiny bit at that. She really was a good girl, he thought sadly. If she didn’t make it, he’d kick himself forever over it. He shouldn’t have cared about a Hellhound OR about a demon, but…they were being so damned likable. Past all of the demonic stuff, they were just a man and his dog. 

“Okay,” he said, trying not to cringe as he peered into the wound. It was pretty deep, and blackish blood was already trying to flood the stab mark again. “Almost done.” He would have to work fast or they’d have to stop and press on the wound again. 

Soaking several pieces of gauze with saline, Sam wrung them out so that they were damp and wadded them up. He was very glad to feel the tension leave Juliet’s back again as the second round of morphine sank in at last. It was a lot easier to pack the gauze into the wound when he didn’t have to listen to the Hellhound’s whimpering.

“I’m here, love,” Crowley murmured to her, not even looking at whatever Sam was doing. Juliet nuzzled her big nose up against his chest and sighed, relaxing again.

It took a shocking amount of gauze to pack the wound. Sam had to guess that the knife used was at least eight inches long, maybe ten. He was reminded again of his personal experience with ambushing and slaying a Hellhound with a knife, and imagining that it was Juliet made him feel a little ill. Right now she hardly resembled the vicious creature he’d fought — she was more like an enormous, frightened puppy. 

“Is it done?” Crowley pulled him back to the present with the quiet words, still hugging Juliet’s head to his chest. He was actually looking Sam’s way this time.

Sam sat back and gently smoothed the gauze and medical tape down over the wound one more time.

“Yeah, this’s the best I can do until we find a spell,” he admitted. “It’s a pretty deep wound, but the gauze I packed in should help it clot and stop bleeding.”

Crowley looked at him expectantly. 

“And?”

Sam stood, wiping some of the blood and saline off of his hands onto his jeans. 

“And until I find a spell to heal her, I’ve done everything I can, Crowley,” he said honestly, looking down at the Hellhound. He sighed. “It’s…it’s pretty bad. I’m not giving up on her yet, though.” He wiped his hands off a little more and pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking the screen. Maybe Dean had gotten hold of Cas by now and the angel could help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juliet's hanging in there, and Sam's having a hard time not liking her and Crowley a little more right about now. Dean, where'd you go?


	3. Chapter 3

Dean, it turned out, had gone out to meet Castiel on his way back to the bunker. As nice as it was to hear that the angel was on his way, Sam found out by text message that no, he could not help heal Juliet. Angels were intended to smite demons — getting his grace anywhere near a demonic Hellhound was just a bad idea.

Sam couldn’t give up now, though. He sat in a chair pulled up near Crowley, who was still sitting on the floor with Juliet’s big head resting on his lap. The demon was silent, letting Sam read. Juliet was thankfully quiet as well — the morphine seemed to be working a little longer this time. Sam hoped that didn’t mean that she was getting weaker.

“Crowley.” His voice seemed too loud in the bunker’s big open space. 

“You’ve found something?” Crowley had sat up immediately. He almost looked hopeful. 

Sam sighed and turned the book he held around, pointing to the diagram on the page. It was a spell for healing humans by using the souls of other humans. 

“Demons are twisted souls,” he began. “Cas seems to think Juliet counts as a demon, because he said his grace would hurt her. I might be able to modify this to heal a demon using…well, another demon.”

Crowley gently moved Juliet’s head to rest on the floor, patting her ears. She made a little whine in her sleep, but didn’t move. Stepping over to Sam’s side, the demon took the book from him and studied the spell quickly, frowning. 

“Moose, this KILLS a person to heal another person.”

A bit surprised he cared, Sam said, “Uh, yeah. You probably have a spare minion nobody’ll miss, right?” 

The other option was to use another Hellhound, but he didn’t want to suggest that. Seeing Juliet with Crowley made him think of Hellhounds as dogs, and killing a dog seemed like crossing a line. At least a demon would probably be awful, and would have killed people for reasons other than because their master said so. Would Hellhounds attack people if not for that being their job? Sam had to wonder.

“No, we’re not plucking some demon for this. Hell can’t get one whiff of this situation,” Crowley replied, irritated. He shoved the book back into Sam’s hands and shook his head, going back to Juliet’s side. Running a hand over her velvety nose, he added more wearily, “If they hear that I cared enough to save her, that makes me look WEAK, Moose. And if they think SHE’S still weak, or a weakness to me, she’ll have a great big target painted on her back.” 

“Okay,” Sam said, sitting up. He frowned thoughtfully, looking down at the book. “Well, this spell is the best chance we have to save her, Crowley. I haven’t found anything else even close to usable.” In general, the demon-related information the Men of Letters chose to hold onto was about killing them.

“Well look again!” Crowley tossed back, scowling. Juliet stirred, ears twitching. She sniffed at the demon’s hand, starting to whimper again, and then Sam cringed as the whining abruptly rose in volume to upsetting cries. The morphine must have worn off. It was a wonder it had lasted her this long.

“Shh, Juliet,” Crowley soothed, sitting on the floor. The Hellhound whimpered mournfully and shoved her big nose into the front of his suit jacket, shivering. He wrapped an arm around her neck and stroked her ears again. “There, there…you’re Papa’s strong girl, aren’t you?” The whining quieted only a little, but she kept trying to push her head under his arm, seeking protection and comfort. Crowley himself had done a complete 180 from angry to comforting.

Struck again by how much he was empathizing with a demon and a demonic pitbull, Sam hurried over and drew more morphine for Juliet. 

“This is an awful lot, we can’t keep giving her doses like this,” he warned Crowley, patting Juliet’s side before injecting her flank with the painkiller. The crying continued. Sam knew it took a couple of minutes to start working, but he wished it didn’t. He sighed.

“I’ll help you fix the spell up,” Crowley said, ignoring the comment about the morphine. He was looking at Juliet sadly, tracing little comforting lines along her snout with his fingertips. “We’ll save you, darling,” he told the Hellhound tenderly, bowing his head to plant a kiss on her nose. “You’ll see, it’ll all be over soon.”  


* * *

  
“No.” Sam tossed Crowley’s revised spell papers onto the map table, shaking his head. “I know she’s your baby, but one slip up and this will kill you.” 

“So don’t bloody slip up,” Crowley replied, snatching the papers back up and shoving them at Sam again. “She doesn’t have time for us to sit on our thumbs anymore!” He waved the papers in Juliet’s direction, and Sam sighed. The last dose of morphine had kicked in almost too well — the Hellhound was scarily quiet and still, and while they were rewriting the spell she’d started to breathe in short quick pants. Not good.

Sam stared Crowley down for a moment, unsure how to respond. He was right, Juliet didn’t have long. Whatever they tried next had to work. And if Crowley was suggesting that the demon they drew soul energy from was himself, he had to be pretty damned confident that it would work, but at what price, exactly?

“I’ve modified it to work slowly,” the King of Hell continued, when Sam said nothing else. “Even if you started the process at full-power, I’d have hours before it killed me. We can cut it off at any time, heal her up just enough to let her heal the rest of the way on her own.”

“Sounds like a good plan, what’s the hold up?” Sam jumped slightly as Dean started talking from over his shoulder. His brother and Castiel had arrived back to the bunker during their spell rewriting, and since Sam was elbows deep in work, Dean decided to make dinner. Apparently it had been almost an hour, and Sam hadn’t even eaten breakfast that morning. He could have mistaken this morning for yesterday, it felt so long ago.

“Dean,” Sam started, turning to face him. He stopped short and frowned at the two pina coladas complete with tiny umbrellas that Dean held in his hands. That wasn’t dinner, was it? “…Crowley wants me to use HIM for the soul-draining spell. It could kill him.” 

“If I let it continue for long enough to kill me, I deserve to die,” Crowley retorted, accepting one of the drinks when Dean offered it. He looked almost touched when he saw the tiny umbrella on top. “If it DOES end me, congratulations, you can brag that you killed the King of Hell. Also, you’re adopting my Hellhound.” 

Sam shook his head in disbelief as Dean pushed the other drink into his hand. This wasn’t a good plan. Maybe liquor wasn’t such a bad idea.

“He’s right, Sammy — she’s gonna die for sure if you do nothing, and they might both live if you follow the plan,” Dean pointed out while both of them took sips of the drinks. Shrugging, he added, “It’s a no-brainer.”

Sam downed half of his drink way too fast before reminding himself that his chances of screwing this up were higher if the alcohol even slightly affected him. He sat the rest aside and nodded to Dean, waving for him and Crowley to follow.

“Fine, but I’m not responsible if somebody ends up dead.” 

The three of them worked together to draw a very large circle around Juliet. When Sam looked up from the sigils he was hastily scrawling with paint, there was an odd sense of camaraderie to see Dean and Crowley both sitting and writing on the floor as well. Crowley had helped them out (or threatened them) from time to time, but it was very rare that he got his hands dirty right along with the hunters.

Against his better judgment, Sam was starting to like Crowley. He really hoped this didn’t kill the demon. 

“Okay.” Dean stood up so quick Sam was sure he wanted to get away from the Hellhound again. Instead, he studied the sigils he’d just drawn with a solemn frown. “All good here. You two?”

“No mistakes,” Crowley said confidently, standing. Sam got to his feet as well, wiping paint off of his hands onto his already bloodstained jeans. 

“Yeah, everything’s written down,” he confirmed, comparing the paper copy of the spell. Juliet’s ears and tail twitched, drawing their attention. She stayed silent, though. Huffing little breaths had been the only real indication she was still with them until the twitching started up. 

“Then let’s get on with it.” Crowley stepped into the circle and sat on the floor, leaning against Juliet’s side. The Hellhound twitched her ears again, and he patted her side gently. 

Sam still had a bad feeling about this, but he went to grab the brass spell bowl and the ingredients they’d picked out. Dean was right, stalling wasn’t doing anybody any favors. 

The spell wasn’t that flashy — especially not with Crowley’s rewrites to make it work so slowly. Castiel showed up around the time it was up to just Sam to do the casting, and Dean stepped back to stand with the angel. Their presence faded from Sam’s mind as he mixed the herbs in the bowl, chanted the incantation, and drizzled some of Juliet’s blood on top. It would have been easy to take out the gauze and make her injury bleed, but Sam had used the syringe to draw a little blood instead. She’d been in enough pain already. 

Crowley sliced his palm and held it over the bowl. Sam watched Juliet’s black blood and the demon’s red mingle and hoped they knew what the hell they were about to do. 

“ _Concateno._ ” He spoke the binding word of the incantation, stirring the whole dark mess with his fingers. Crowley offered his palm, which had already healed from the cut, and Sam gripped his wrist, drawing the transfer sigil there with the blood-herb mix. Leaning forward over the edge of the circle, he drew the same sigil big and bold onto Juliet’s fur on her side. 

“ _Concateno_ ,” he repeated more loudly, frowning. The wet sigils almost seemed to shimmer, like a light being passed over them. Sam sat back as the magic circle on the floor flared bright for an instant, and then…nothing. Juliet’s ears twitched again, and again Crowley pet them.

Sam frowned. Well, at least he wasn’t dead.

“Do you think it’s working?” He asked, glancing between Crowley and Juliet. 

“Something is happening,” Cas offered, stepping up closer. He squinted at Crowley, who looked nonplussed.

“Always wondered why your glasses can see Hellhounds and not us demons.”

“If I knew I’d fix them,” Sam admitted, relaxing a bit. It was reassuring to hear Crowley talk. He didn’t seem to be dying. The original spell had implied that the transfer was painful, but Crowley seemed utterly unfazed by that, too. Sam was sure his pain tolerance was at some mythical level by now, though — he probably just didn’t show that it hurt. “Cas, can you tell if Juliet’s getting any better from this?”

“No,” the angel admitted, exchanging a look with Crowley. “But I can see bits of Crowley moving to her and being absorbed. It looks…wispy.” Wispy? Sam had to remind himself that Crowley looked like red smoke when not in a body. Maybe that’s what Cas was talking about.

“Guess now we wait,” Dean concluded, stepping carefully around the circle toward the door. “Seems like this is gonna take awhile, so I’m gonna go make us some real food now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Juliet is a good girl. Can Sam research a way to save her?


End file.
